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Risen Paul

The Cost of Following Jesus

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Risen Paul    0

Prolog

"But Jesus said unto him, Follow me; and let the dead bury their dead". (Mt 8,22)

„Great news“, they've said to him, „the LORD is risen and that means: You are going to meet him first“!

Even back than, before his life had begun to fall into pieces, Paul had known at once, this could only mean trouble for him.

He could not help himself, but to think of this strange guy from 'The Sopranos'-show, who told everyone about the resurrection of Jesus.

Just like him, Paul had his own experiences with religious fanatism and criminal family ties, more than he liked, indeed.

But even if his 'old' life had not been great or even sufficient by any normal standards, the story he was in now, was a whole different calibre.

Just when he thought that he had made it out of the worst struggle, his past had caught him and things escalated quickly.

The US-government had given him the choice:

Freedom and cooperation with them, or disappearing into jail for some serious charges.

So he had cooperated, who would not have, he thought now.

After all they had only asked him to deal with persons well acquainted to him, not this other godless things, the demons...

The agency sent him back to Altis, to his family and the people he once had called friends.

Altis was his birth-place, where he had spent the earlier parts of his life.

For the few foreigners who lost their ways there, the island seemed of less use to.

Regardless the amazing landscape, it had no real tourist value.

Tourists would either find a larger part of the island claimed by the military, or often be confronted with the more or less subliminal hostility of the island-natives, who liked to stay for themselves.

This way Altis had not really been in the mind of the outside world for decades.

But suddenly, in the course of the European financial crisis, people began to ask questions. Meanwhile, as always, the US were already intervening, using their contacts in the region.

Besides they found him, Paul, the immigrant living in their borders, actually in conflict with the law, what made him an easy instrument to play on.

The agency knew about the mafia-like Christian cult on Altis, which moved considerable amounts of money and had relations to the military.

Paul knew them even better, but he refused to share all his information just yet.

They were the reason for his departure, trying to make a better life in the USA.

When you grew up and lived in the CHURCH OF ALTIS, your life was determined by GOD and the bible was the law.

His people actually believed that the apocalypse was nearby, coming in full force, so they were preparing themselves...

Paul himself was raised that way, though he often found himself in a crucial conflict:

He could believe in the apocalypse as much as in the achievements of the modern age.

Once he had arrived in the states, he had made his first experiences with various legal and illegal drugs.

Especially he had developed a taste for cocaine.

The desire for this drug had soon turned into a formidable addiction, which he had still problems to overcome.

First it looked like things would turn out relatively great for him.

Paul became aware of having a residence permission on his mother's side, so he was looking forward for a life in freedom and unlimited possibilities.

That was before he had learned about the side effects of drug-consuming...

Anyways Paul knew, not all citizens on Altis were the terrorists the US-government thought they were.

They had given him the chance to prove them wrong, so he went back there with mixed feelings.

He was going to observe and perhaps betray his native family and former friends.

Surprisingly the reunion with his church was less problematic than expected.

Maybe that should have made him suspicious, Paul recapitulated, but as mentioned, life on Altis had always been different...

On the other hand, all thoughts were about the mysterious disease in Chernarus at that time.

Nothing specific could be heard about the situation over there, only wild rumors, including a godly appearance on a green mountain or such.

Some days went by, without any more detailed information arriving on the island, until the international military forces ordered air scouts from the Altis fleet.

The returning pilots seemed to be disturbed enough, but did not talk about the incidents.

Paul's church became more and more concerned.

They were convinced, that the situation must have something to do with the Messiah, maybe it already was the beginning of the end of it all...

On a side note, the church had some 'investments' in Chernarus.

It was an urgent need to contact their business-partners, before the international forces would become aware of these relations...

Therefore the superior of the church decided to ship from Altis to Chernarus, to either welcome the Last Days or take care about the secular affairs.

Nonetheless the agency ordered him to play his role, follow the group to Chernarus and make a report for the US...

Next thing Paul remembered was waken up at a strand, surrounded by creatures from hell, who looked uneasily like his former brothers in faith, then another blackout...

How had he found the strength to make his way out of the situation, when these devils were chasing him?

Was he even alive anymore?

Was this his personal hell, the just LORD had created for his sins?

All he wished for right now, was another dose of white, so he could think clearer, everything was obvious and logical while taking cocaine.

What he did remember clearly was his character:

He knew, measured by society standards, he probably had to be described as a suspect and unlikable individual.

Though Paul thought of himself as not being intentionally malicious or dangerous in the proper sense.

Matter-of-fact, he had to admit, he would sell his own grandmother to reach his goals.

Living life to the fullest in two kind of contradictory worlds, the spiritual and the capitalistic one, had made him develop a strange perspective, at least for foreigners, it all made perfect sense for him, most of the times...

Paul had strongly been seeking enlightenment through drug-consuming in the recent years.

On the other hand, steadily meditating over the Holy Script for hours, sometimes days, could do some strange things to your thinking.

Paul saw no big difference between both ways and often combined them.

Still this gnostic work had taken its toll, Paul had no delusions about.

The more his mind was traveling at the transcendent boundaries of the existence, the more he disdained the world he was momentarily living in.

In the end Paul had always been forced to come back into his body so far.

He took this for a painful lesson and understood the ordeal, god was giving him:

The only way for him to find the godly truth was by staying alive, no matter what the cost would be.

Paul was sure, his cold blooded existence only was one piece of the puzzle in the divine plan...

Had he just used his hatchet against the monsters?

He could not say, but if so, Paul did not care much for the creature lying next to him, whether it had been human or inhuman.

Instead a strange euphoric feeling gave him a cold shover for the moment.

His life had been way too much of a plaything for foreign interests lately.

The US, the CHURCH OF ALTIS, they all had meant to use him in their opaque games, ignoring the fact, that actually GOD was the one pulling the strings and making the world go round!

Had the world come to end now?

Paul was optimistic to find out soon.

Never again would he let someone hinder him making his way to GOD from now on...

When he opened his eyes again, he saw a pool of dark-red covering the ground next to him.

Paul blinked and some objects in it took shape.

Half-dipped in was his hatchet, the blade smeared with red liquid, with blood, Paul realized.

Apparently someone had used it to paint a quite bloody picture, in the form of crosses scrawled over the scenery.

Further Paul was holding something in his red tinted, right hand.

A piece of paper that turned out to be a book page.

Torn out from the Holy Scripture, he already knew before he took a look on it.

Paul had developed kind of a haptic sense for his bible, for the special feeling of the paper, which helped him to dive deeper into the text...

But now he stared at the slurred letters.

The whole page was a mess, covered with bloody dots and blots, difficult to read.

Paul did not need to read it.

He had learned the whole text by heart long ago and identifying a few words would bring the text-passage into his mind.

He started to look THROUGH the page, already half-straying and in trance again.

Suddenly there was this absent smile in his face, some people in the past had been terrified about.

Paul recognized the passage now.

Especially one verse he was familiar with:

"And in those days shall men seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them". (Rev. 9,6)

...

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Met your character today, shame it was nearing midnight for me and I had to tone down the noise I made. Paul is interesting and I hope you continue writing this.

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Your character kind of reminds me of Battlefield Bad Company, I mean it in the how he got here sense though. I like the quotes and references you used as well, like you truly put your hard work in to this.

Excellent back story, I hope I get to meet you in the future IG. :)

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Risen Paul    0

Thanks a lot for the nice feedback!

I barely have the time to play or write within the week, but I will definitely take some motivation out of your comments...

Also I'm always trying to document my game-impressions, so I hope a second chapter of the story will grow, while I'm sleeping over it :D!

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Risen Paul    0

Chapter I

'1142' was the thing that was coming into Pauls mind time after time.

1142 was mayhaps a number like all the others were, probably meaningless to the remaining survivors out there, but for Paul it was different.

He could literally feel all the single values and elements of this sum moving in his head, craving his attention, repressing every other thought.

1142 times he had done what God had assigned him to do, taking care of the undead creatures.

He had made himself a name in this new world by sending 1142 demons back to hell and for all he knew, even the devil himself wasn't willing to stop him just yet.

The recent months had been anything but easy for him, friends and foes had come and gone.

It had always been a vicious circle of hoping, reaching for new homesteads, seeing it all consumed by the fire, then hoping again.

After all, the only progress to be found, the only prove in cold print for him being alive anymore was in his journal, right before his eyes.

There it was written and Paul eagerly read it again, he felt a disturbing pressure to convince himself, although for the moment it stood undeniable: '1142.'

Nothing would change that.

'So it is 1142,' Paul thought.

'What if I'm wrong? How can one man keep track of all these deeds?'

Paul continued to meditate over his doubts for a while, before he said to himself:

'1142 is my landmark. May it be more, it is already known by God. May it be less, the greater my glory will be!'

Nothing else mattered, Paul had always known it and it had been proven again in this apocalypse.

The human world was only an illusion, a farce, Satans work to the bone, the fact that Paul was able to play his part more often than not made no difference.

People might call him insane, he could only smile about it.

In the end what did they have compared to him?

'1142,' Paul thought one last time, rolled on his side among the corpses and fell into a peaceful sleep.

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